That Evil Thing
by skylight24
Summary: John recalls a memory from his childhood that leads him to make a decision concerning his own sons which Sam and Dean are not too happy about. WARNING: This story contains SPANKING (corporal punishment) of a minor with a paddle. If this offends you in any way please DO NOT READ.


That Evil Thing

Hi everyone! This is a story I wrote awhile ago. I usually like to write about hand spankings, but wanted to try a story where a paddle was used. And I am so sorry I haven't updated or posted more stories lately. I have very little free time right now and have to prioritize accordingly, but I hope there are still people interested. And for those who have sent PMs and I haven't gotten back to I'm sorry I will get to it as soon as I can. Also, for those waiting on the Punishment story update. I'm working on it, but it's slow going.

Note: In this story John's father has a significant role in John's life (in the series it suggests that he did not).

Please comment and review and let me know what you think. It's a big motivator for me. Thank you!

Warning: This story contains SPANKING of a minor with a paddle. There is also swearing in this story. If this offends you in any way please DO NOT READ.

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June 1993 - Fremont, Nebraska (Dean, 14/Sam, 10)

Sam was breathing heavily as he rounded the fence post. Sweat was dripping from his temple and his chest was feeling tight as his heart pounded. His legs ached and burned in protest at the over exertion he was forcing on his body. Sam halted grabbing onto the wooden fence for support gasping as he was trying desperately to catch his breath. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon and the sky was turning a beautiful yellow. Sam probably would have found it beautiful if he didn't feel like puking. Sam scowled at the horizon not liking that he was up before the sun. In fact, he was up an hour and a half before the sun. Sam couldn't help but envy all the other 10-year-old boys in the world that didn't have to get up at 5am and train. Any normal parent would let their 10-year-old sleep in, but not his Dad. He had to awake up at 5am, do the basic 10 which was a series of reps of push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks etc. then run, then run again then run some more. John wasn't satisfied until his boys were military ready and prepared and even after that he seemed unsatisfied. He always expected more. Once his boys achieved something it was onto the next set of endless steps to becoming Hunter ready. And endurance was huge part of that according to his dad. So, there he was running before the day even began.

Sam bent over slightly still hanging onto the fence trying to relieve the cramp he was feeling in his side when he heard a familiar annoying voice. "Get moving, Sammy." Then Sam felt a solid smack on his bottom jolting him forward. He quickly shot upright and flung his hands back to cover his posterior. He looked to see his older brother run past him with little effort, like he could run forever.

"Jerk." Sam grumbled as he rubbed the sting out of his bottom. Sam felt irritated not only from the smack he received, but the fact that Dean had lapped him. Dean was always better at endurance. Dean just loved to train while Sam on the other hand was more of a thinker. Not that he couldn't do it. He was more than capable, but he did not like it. He found himself enjoying other things and the fact that he was being made to made him dislike it even more. He would prefer to work his brain and not his body, but that was not his choice (apparently, he doesn't have one) his Dad decided when and what he and his brother would do. And having a Hunter, not to mention and ex-marine as your father was not fun, not for Sam anyway.

Being that they were visiting one of John's old friends Sam figured they would not be training this week. He was obviously wrong. John wanted them to run around the east fence line which was the one closest to Greg's old farm house. They could easily be seen from the wrap around porch. Sam was beginning to catch his breath. He often wondered if his Dad was a farmer, like Mr. Greene, if he still would have to get up at 5am and run. He didn't have too much time to think on it when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Sammy!" Sam whirled around to see Dean running up from behind him. "Better more your ass. You don't want Dad to come out here!" Dean called as he ran passed Sam for the second time.

Sam sighed heavily and looked over at the old farm house. It was at the bottom of the hill and could not tell if his Dad was watching or not. He certainly did not want his Dad to come out. John took training very seriously and did not take kindly when his boys slacked off. Usually when his boys slacked off they found themselves doing more than they would have before. Sam, with one last grumble, turned towards the fence line and began to run again not wanting to risk his dad's motivation methods.

John looked out the window with a mug of black coffee in his hand watching his boys run. It had been a few weeks since he had the boys doing a morning endurance run and wanted to get them back on track to their usual training schedule which was put on hold due to the last back to back hunts he had completed. He did not want them to get lazy. Laziness leads to mistakes and mistakes lead to injuries or worse. He got quite a protest from his youngest which he was expecting but nipped it in the bud quickly with a threat to add more to the workout and a spanking to ensure motivation.

Greg walked up beside his old friend and gave him a curious look. Being a friend to John for many years knew he had something weighing heavily on his mind. Greg was in his late fifties now and had been a friend of the Winchester family since John was a teenager. He was a good friend of John's mother and often visited him when they went came into Nebraska to visit with family. He was fully aware of John's career choice and gave him his full support after an encounter with angry spirt 5 years ago.

"Those are some fine boys you got there, John." Greg stated nodding to the window out at the running boys.

John hummed as he took a sip of his hot coffee. He couldn't agree more. He was fully aware of his boy's exceptional skills and abilities that most parents would be shocked to see. However, they have to be above average and exceptional in hunting skills. It's what will keep them alive. He was very proud of both his boys, but rarely did he vocalize it to others. He already knew it himself and did not find the need to brag. Besides he was often not able to due to the fact that it would raise suspicion and put them in the spot light. Something John avoided at all costs.

"Sam's gotten taller. He's starting to look a lot like you, John." Greg mused as he brushed a calloused hand over his grey speckled beard.

John snorted. "Yeah. Kid's starting to act like me too."

Greg let out a chuckle. "Paybacks a bitch ain't it?"

John nodded with a half-smile playing on his lips. For all the times he has given his parents grief when he was Sam's age; John was now experiencing their pain and wished wholeheartedly that his younger self was more cooperative. Payback _is_ a bitch.

"Yeah." John agreed watching his youngest son round the fence post. John wasn't one to complain much to others about family issues, but Greg was a good friend and John valued his advice. Mainly because they agreed on most things.

"Last week the boy told me I was a selfish unfair jerk because I didn't let him go to some friend's house. On top of that he threw a book like some two-year-old having a tantrum." John explained with a bit of a bite to his voice. Obviously still bitter about his son's behavior.

"Shit." Greg sympathized sounding rather shocked at the story. John's boys were usually very well behaved and it was rare that he heard of any real immature or disrespectful behavior towards John. "You tan his hide?" He asked knowingly.

"Yep." John said casually as he took another sip of his coffee. "I not going to tolerate tantrums. He's too old for that shit." John was annoyed at his boy's childish behavior last week. He was for the most part keeping his nose clean due the spanking he was given, but John knew that wouldn't last. There would be something else and Sam would cross the line again and he would be back over his knee. That's the way it was seeming to go with his youngest lately and John was not liking it at all. Not only because of the disrespectful and childish behavior his boy was displaying, but the punishments that follow was not something John enjoyed doing. In all honesty it scared John. Defiance and disrespect lead to insubordination and ciaos; something that was unacceptable and dangerous. The kid needed to listen and obey him.

"He's getting to that age where he's going to think he knows more than his Dad." Greg offered knowing Sam was on his way to his teen years soon.

"Oh he's way past that stage. He thinks he knows everything there is to know. The older he gets the worst it gets. My hand on his bare ass just isn't going to cut it anymore. I'm going to have to upgrade him to my belt." John said feeling his frustration build in his chest. John did not want to do that but found him having no choice if his son's behavior continued.

"Never used the belt on him yet huh?" Greg said seeing his friend's frustration and conflict.

"No." John said simply. "Dean's gotten it a few times." Dean was John's rock and he needed Dean on his A game twenty-four seven. He relied on him and expected a lot from him, more then he realized, so Dean was on the receiving end of John's belt mainly for recklessness or ignoring orders which was rare, but happened on occasion.

Greg hummed thoughtfully. "Not using the paddle like your old man?"

"No." John never really thought about a paddle mostly because he does not own one. "My belt works fine."

Greg smiled. "Oh I have no doubt your belt works, but maybe you should get yourself a paddle. It's a bit different and a good deterrent of bad behavior, speaking from my own experience and yours as I recall. After a good session with that I guarantee they will think twice as hard."

"I remember, thing hurt like a bitch." John scrunching his face at the memory of that dreaded thing.

Flashback:

"JOHN ERIC WINCHESTER!"

John swallowed hard. He was in for it. His ass was grass. He might as well start making up his will now.

John had heard his father's muffled voice down stairs earlier. He had just gotten home from work and John assumed that his mother told him what happened in school. John along with a few buddies from his class were caught smoking behind the school. John's father smoked and smoked often, however that did not mean John could. It was a rule that was made clear to John from the first time he asked about cigarettes. He knew he was not supposed to be doing it, but it was considered cool and at the time seemed like an awesome idea. Now he was rethinking that. He wasn't counting on any mercy to be shown in his favor. Not only was smoking a huge transgression, but he had taken a pack from his father's dresser and disperse them amongst his friends. He was so dead.

Being only 10 years old at the time, John was not always the bravest soul. Hearing Mr. Winchester shout your name like that would have grown ass men freeze in fear. John bit his lip nervously as he slowly slid off his bed. He was not exactly itching to see his father at the moment.

"DON'T MAKE ME COME GET YOU, BOY!"

John's eyes widened. He did not want his father to come get him because that usually meant double spankings. One for not obeying and one for the initial wrongdoing. John found himself booking it down stairs. Once he reached the bottom of the steps he saw his father waiting to greet him. His dad had a deep furious scowl on his face that made John dip his head down to the carpeted floor. His father's arms were crossed over his chest and his legs stood wider than usual. This is what John liked to call the Winchester stance. He saw his grandfather stand just like that a couple times too and little did John know he would adopt that same stance when he was blessed with children of his own.

"You take my cigarettes?" He asked in a deadly calm voice.

John looked up into his father's eyes because that what you did. It was respectful and his father would expect nothing less. It didn't matter how uncomfortable you felt, you do it anyways. "Yes, sir." John said sadly.

"You smoke with your friends behind the school?" He asked curtly.

John swallowed hard feeling his throat go dry. It was something he did, but he found it very hard to admit it to his father's face. When John didn't answer right away his father raised an eye brow.

"Y-yes, sir." John sputtered out.

He hummed deeply in his throat. There was a moment of dreaded silence then what his father said next shot fear right into John's very core.

"Go get the paddle."

John's eyes widened and his heart rate increased rapidly. John had gotten the paddle once before and it was a very unpleasant experience to say the least and had sworn that he would never do something that would earned him a session with that paddle ever again, but low and behold his father had declared his fate.

Without thinking John spoke. "Dad, please." John said pitifully.

"Now, John." His father spoke sternly in a tone that left no room for argument.

John felt tears line his eyes as he forced himself to go to the kitchen and fetch that evil thing so his father could beat his ass. John knew he shouldn't dawdle, but it was hard for a ten-year-old boy to take his spanking implement to his father. He made it to the kitchen and saw the dreaded thing hanging on the hook where it always was unless of course it was beating his ass. John took the flat piece of oak off the wall and walked past his mother who was at the stove with a very solemn look on her face as she stirred the boiling pasta. His mother did not like her little boy getting spanked, but rarely intervened. She trusted her husband and saw it as his duty to dish out the punishments for the major transgressions. Of course, she would give him a swat or two or a quick hand spanking, but never anything major. John wanted to pled to his mother, but knew from numerous experiences that it was useless not to mention babyish.

John walked slowly into the living room where his father was standing at the back door that lead out to the porch area. John slowly lifted his head to look at his father. He jerked his head to the door indicating that he wanted John to go outside. John knew all too well that they were going to the back shed. That's were paddlings took place. Hand spankings were usually on the living room coach, but paddlings were done in the shed away from the ears of his soft-hearted mother.

John followed his father outside trying to keep up with his brisk pace. The paddle John was carrying was around a foot long and two inches wide. It had nothing written on it or any holes drilled into it. It was simple and hurt like a bitch. I guess there is no need embellish something that destroys sitting forever. It simply speaks for itself.

The shed was not too large, but had a convenient saw horse that was not simply used for sawing, but for administering good hidings. Once inside John's father closed the door behind him and reached out his hand for the paddle. John gave it to him trying not to whimper as he did so. His father took it from him and looked at his son shaking his head in disappointment. The disappointed look in his father's eyes caused John to look down and let out small sniffle.

"You chose this, boy. You got no one to blame, but yourself." He said in a stern voice.

A yes, sir would have been the best answer here, but John's emotions were getting the best of him. "It's not my choice." John mumbled under his breath feeling that it was unfair of his father to say it was his choice to be paddled because he certainly did not ask his father to paddle him. It was just stupid to say.

"What?" John's father growled not hearing his son completely but suspecting it was perhaps backtalk because he was pretty sure it wasn't a yes, sir. Usually anything other than a yes, sir when a spanking was about to occur was consider back talk and was definitely not allowed in the slightest. It was seen as disrespectful.

John usually was fairly good with no back talk, but he was gaining a stubborn streak that tended to run in the Winchester gene pool. As John got older it got harder and harder not to keep his mouth shut. John feeling his statement was just expressed it. "I didn't choose to be paddled." John was setting up for argument something that was happening far too often for Mr. Winchester's liking.

"Excuse me? You chose this most definitely, young man. You are ten years old and know very well that what you did was not allowed. You knew the consequences of your actions, but you chose to do it anyways. I did not make you do it, your friends did not make you do it. You did it and you are the only one to blame for your actions. So you don't get to stand there and tell me you did not chose this because you most certainly did, little boy. Stealing, lying and smoking are all things I'd never think you'd stoop to John, never, but apparently, I was wrong. And now I have to administer the consequence you were fully aware of before you decided to break the rules. Now get your ass over that that saw horse before I take you over my knee for a good warm up." At this point his father was pointing the paddle to the saw horse giving his son a deep disappointed frown.

John moved to do as his father instructed with a heavy heart. A few tears slid down his cheek as he bent over the uncomfortable wood. He took ahold of the stabilizing bar in middle between the two legs.

"Stealing, smoking and lying. Not real redeeming qualities, son. Is that the type of man you want to be? Think about that." He said in his smooth gravelly voice.

"N-no, s-sir." John chocked out trying his best to get ahold of himself. He wasn't so much crying about the paddling he was about to reserve, well some of it was that, but the shame he was feeling in the pit of his stomach was overpowering. He was regretting his decision terribly. He wanted to be a good man.

Mr. Winchester hummed. "Then learn from this."

John felt the flat of the paddle rub against his jean covered bottom then lift away. John sucked in a breath and stiffened his body in anticipation of the coming swat. There was a whoosh and a loud pop that echoed through the small the shed. John jolted forward at the impact forcing him onto his tip toes. He squeezed his eyes shut at the dreaded instant sting that rapidly spread over his cheeks. Before John could comprehend too much another swat came swiftly down on the same spot. That HURT.

"AH!" John grunted jumping slightly as he griped onto the wood so tight his knuckles were beginning to turn white. John felt an intense burning spread over his little bottom. Only two swats were given and John already felt very sore and very sorry, fresh tears lined his eyes and uncontrolled sobs escaped his lips. Then another swat followed that one. This particular swat hit John's sit spots perfectly and a horrible burning sensation emanated all over his backside which sunk deep into his skin. John let out an appropriate cry.

"AHHHHHHH! OWWW!" John wailed as tears were sliding down his cheeks. The stinging, burning and aching did not subside nor let up. John usually was very brave during spankings and often took them rather stoically (or stubbornly depending on who you talked to). However, it seemed like the paddle was a whole different story. It was in a whole other league. One swat with that evil thing was like a full spanking bare in itself. It HURT, more than anything he had experienced in his young life. At this point he absolutely hated himself for his stupidity. Nothing was worth a session with this ass killer.

At this point it felt like John had sat in a coal fire. His bottom was burning fiercely and was tingling like he was just poked with a thousand needles. The next swat came and John was holding nothing back at this point and began to cry fully. It was at the fifth swat where John could no longer take the searing pain anymore and jumped upright grabbing ahold of his burning bottom.

"OWWWWWW! OW, OW, OW!" he cried jumping up and down tears streaming down his young face. "P-please d-dad. I'm s-sorry, n-no more. I'm sooooorrrryyy."

Mr. Winchester was eyeing his son and felt a tug at his heart at his son's distress. However, now was not the time for comfort. His son was being punished.

With a heavy heart he kept on a stern face. "Bend back over, son. We are not done."

John let out a miserable whimper and began to cry even harder. "Dad, I-I'm s-sorry. I l-learned I-I did."

"I have no doubt you are sorry, boy and that's fine, but just because you are sorry now does not change what you have done nor does it cut your punishment short. Now bend you ass back over the saw horse. I'm not going to tell you again." His father voice was firm as he pointed back to the saw horse.

John knowing arguing would only lead to more pain for his backside wisely turned back and bend over for more swats. John did not know how many spanks his dad was planning to do. It was his dad's choice and under his digression and rarely told John how much he was getting. He asked once and got: _As many as I think your little ass deserves_. John didn't know how much more he could take with the dreaded paddle, but he always seemed to impress himself and handle more then he thought.

The next couple swats had John crying profusely. He never stopped begging his dad to stop and that he had learned his lesson and would never smoke ever again. Finally, he heard the words he was looking for, for what seemed like hours.

"Alright stand up, son, stand up. We're done."

John slowly lifted himself off the saw horse. He stood up stiffly trying to whip away the tears on his face. His eyes were very red and puffy from the crying. He reached behind him slowly and tentatively rubbed his achy, very sore backside. The heat from his backside was radiating through his jeans like he had stuffed a heating pad down his pants and no matter how many times he rubbed the sting was still lingering. John was sure that he was never going to sit again. He hated that paddle with a passion and decided right then and there that he would never be on the receiving end of it ever again. Of course, that was not the case, but he certainly tried to keep his bad behavior to a minimum. There were many things John thought twice about knowing that that evil thing was hanging in the kitchen ready to meet with his ass again.

When John began to calm down enough his father spoke. "I don't want this to ever happen again. You are better than this. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes, sir." John sniffled.

"You are a good kid, John. We all make mistakes, but I need you to learn from this. I sure as hell don't want to beat your ass like this again, but I will if I have to. So, do us both a favor and think before you do something stupid."

"Yes, sir." John said feeling rather ashamed.

"Oh and if you ever steal from me again. Not only will you see this paddle again, young man, but you will see it with your pants around your ankles. Am I clear?"

John's eyes widened in pure fear. Bare? No way would his ass survive. John swallowed and nodded up and down.

"Can't hear your head raddle, son." His father graveled out.

"Yes, sir." John said politely.

"Good to hear, son." He said with a nod.

John bit his lip as he nodded back to his father. He wanted to make his dad proud and he was finding himself to feel real ashamed about his actions.

"Sir?" John said softly.

"Hmm?"

"I want to be a man." John said sincerely. John was not sure exactly what he meant by that statement at the time, but all he knew is he wanted to make his father proud of him.

Mr. Winchester felt a warmness in his chest and felt his lips curl up into a smile. He put the flat of his hand gently on his son's cheek and looked at him. He had a good heart.

"You will be, in time. It won't be easy, but you will." Mr. Winchester said giving his son a small smile. "Doing what is right is not always easy, son. It takes a lot of bravery and strength."

John scrunched his eye brows together in thought trying to take in what his father was saying to him. "Dad when did you become a man?"

He smiled feeling his heart swell. "When I met your mother."

"Not before?" John asked curiously.

"Nope, not for me, son. Believe it or not the man I am today is because of that angel in the kitchen." He said nodding his head towards the house. John always knew his father loved his mother more then himself. She always came first and he treated her like she was the perfect. That's not to say they never fought or disagreed on things, but always in the end seemed to figure it out.

"Really?" John asked.

"Yes, women tend to bring out the best in men. We certainly can't live without them."

"I can live without some." John grumbled thinking about Sally Shields who tattled on him all the time and never shut up. "Sally Shields doesn't bring out the best in me, Dad."

He chuckled. "Yes well I didn't say you had to like every girl, son, but I expect you to be respectful to every girl."

"Even when she is not to me?" John asked finding that to very unfair.

"Yes. You want to be a man? Act like it." Mr. Winchester expressed firmly giving his son a stern look. "Disrespectful behavior is a reflection of her character. Don't stoop down to her level. You behave like I know you know how."

"That's unfair." John declared expressing just how he felt on the matter.

"Life's is not fair."

John wanted to roll his eyes. His father said that way too often as a comeback for everything that he expressed was unfair. So instead John pouted which wasn't much better.

"Get that ridiculous pout off your face."

John relaxed his face. His bottom was so sore he was not taking any chances. The deep ache consuming his cheeks still lingered prominently.

"Women are to be respected, protected and treated kindly. You know what's expected of you, young man. We've talked about this many times."

"Yes, sir." John said respectfully. "But do I really have to treat them all like they are angels or something?" John asked not convinced that all were deserving.

"No, I just expect you to be civil and respectful. You don't have to treat all women special son. Usual that is reserved for someone that you love." Mr. Winchester tired to explain.

"A wife." John stated matter of fact like.

"If you so choose to ask her and she says yes, but that is not anytime soon." He said knowing very well his son would not completely understanding everything he was saying, but glad he was thinking about it. "Your mother will want us in for dinner soon."

John nodded as he reached back again to give comfort to his very sore bottom. "When I get married and have a family. I'm not going to spank my kids with a paddle." He at the time found the paddle to be, in the simplest terms, evil.

"No?" He asked curiously.

"No, sir. It hurts." John said scrunching his face up into an uncomfortable grimes as he rubbed his sit spots.

"Humm. Even if they smoke, lie or steal?" Mr. Winchester asked curiously as he raised his eye brows.

"I'll spank them with my hand." John said simply already planning his discipline methods.

"Humm. Think it'll work?" He asked playing along with his son's thoughts of his future family.

"I don't know maybe." John shrugged.

"Well you got a long way to go before you make that decision, John. Do you think the hand spanking is worse then the paddle?" He asked giving his son more to think about.

"Well no, sir, but it really hurts." John said feeling a bit of bitterness towards the one responsible for his achy backside.

"It's supposed to son." He said seeing his son's bitterness.

"Did grandpa use a paddle on you?" John asked curiously.

"Yes and I said I was never going to use it on my kid." He said with a smile.

"Well Dad what happened? Why did you?" John asked with a disappointed frown on his face that was rather cute on John's young face.

"Because Winchesters are stubborn and sometimes a hand is not enough to get it through to their stubborn asses. There is something about a paddle that make you think twice about doing something you shouldn't because whatever it is, it is not worth the paddle. Am I right, son?" He asked seeing his son's constant rubbing and shifting of his weight. Mr. Winchester saw it as a job well done that was for sure, but he wanted to hear his son's thoughts on the matter.

"Yes, sir. I'm never getting that evil thing again. I'll be lucky if I can ever sit again." John frowned as he stared at the ass killer.

"Well you just find the will, son because dinner will be done shortly and you will be sitting." Mr. Winchester declared not missing his son's pout.

"Awh Dad. Just this once can I stand?" John whined feeling very sorry for himself.

"No, young man." He was firm on that and did not give his son the luxury of standing.

"I've got no butt left dad. There is nothing to sit on. You whacked it off." John complained as crossed his arms over his chest and set his lips into a firm pout. He had the urge to stomp his foot, but knew very well he was far too old for that and it would land him over his father's knee. It happened every time. The one thing his father was really good at was consistency. His dad never gave him a break.

Mr. Winchester not liking his son's attitude gave him a stern look. "Turn around." He graveled out.

John's eyes widened. Oh God. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut. OH GOD! _I'm an idiot, a total moron_. "Dad I'm sorry." John sputtered out feeling his cheeks clench as he subconsciously covered his behind with his hands.

Mr. Winchester narrowed his eyes at his son and motioned for his son to do as he said. John slowly turned his body and as soon as he did he felt a small smack on the seat of his jeans that was rather lite, but on a freshly paddled bottom it hurt. "Ow!" John felt a small sting form.

When no more swats came John spun around to face his father.

"Your ass is still there son."

John scowled at his Dad giving his bottom a good rub. He did not find the dry humor to be funny. "Yeah and it still hurts."

"I'm sure it does, but you will survive. Now put this back…" He said handing the paddle over to John. John never really understood why his father never got the paddle or put it back himself. He never seemed to touch it until John handed it to him so he could beat his ass. John guessed it was part of the punishment, like sitting on his sore ass at dinner was part of it. "and help your mother with dinner." He added as John walked towards the shed door.

John seriously considered for a moment hiding the evil thing, but then….

"And John."

"Yes, sir?" John automatically said as he turned back to look at his father.

"Put it back on the hook." He said with a knowing look.

John bit his lip. He father could read minds he was sure of it. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Winchester smiled as his boy walked stiffly out of the shed.

End of Flashback

Greg chuckled. "Didn't feel good, did it?"

"I hated that thing. I had so many thoughts of burning it, barring it and throwing it in the god damn lake." John exclaimed as thoughts of his childhood crept into his mind.

Greg smiled at his friend. "But you didn't."

"No because I knew if I did my dad would buy a new one. Then beat my ass ten times over." John replied remembering his father's hundreds of lectures on facing consequences of the wrongdoings.

"I remember you straightening up real quick at the mention of it." Greg said giving John a knowing look. Greg had been around the Winchester family enough back in the day to remember John as a teenager dreading the paddle like it was an evil possessed object.

"Yeah that thing struck fear into me like no other." John nodded still remembering the lingering sting it produced. "It's not really something I want to have my boys to experience, but if it gets them to straighten up. I'll do it." John was nowhere near eager to spank either of his boys ever, let alone paddle their asses. However, he was in a dangerous business and he would do anything to keep his boys safe and if that included paddling their asses John would not hesitate. John's goal was not to be popular. His goal was to keep them safe and raise them right.

"Yeah parenting is no easy job." His friend mused with a sigh seeing John's worn face.

John nodded in agreeance. "Sometimes I think hunting the supernatural is the easier job. At least a ghost don't give me lip." John grumbled.

Greg simply shrugged. "Well you'll figure it out. Do what works."

John nodded his head more to himself then his friend as he thought. John watched as Sam round the fence post and his eldest passing him once again. John smiled when he saw Sam pick up his pace in order to try to catch up with his brother. They were both good boys. Stubborn and reckless at times, but good. John assumed he was to blame for the stubborn and reckless qualities. They were strong minded and both possessed a strong desire to protect and help others. They were strong, smart and very capable, but they were still young and John would always be their father who desired to keep them safe.

"You still good with wood?" John asked.

"I'll make you one. It's not a problem." His friend replied knowing exactly what the hunter wanted.

"Thank you." John said sincerely giving his friend a nodded.

After spending a few days with Greg John announced that they had to hit the road. The car was packed and ready to go, but John had announced that he had to grab one more thing before they left. So, Sam and Dean waited patiently for him by the Impala. Knowing it was going to be a long trip Dean was leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed over his chest while Sam was on the other side of the car kicking some rocks on the gravel driveway. After being constantly on the road most of their lives they learned to take all the time they could out of car.

It did not take John long before he was coming back to the car. Seeing his dad heading towards them Dean pushed his back off the car and uncrossed his arms. That was when he spotted something unusual in his dad's hands. Dean scrunched his eyebrows together staring at the curious object his Dad was carrying. It looked like…a cutting board maybe? When his dad said he had to grab something Dean did not expect kitchenware to be on his dad's priority list. Then as his dad got closer Dean's eye widened in horror. _You have got to be kidding me? _

"Dad what the hell is that?" Dean asked knowing very well what it was. Just hoping John had another use for the thing. He seen it in movies, old tv shows and hell even at the Texas High School they were at two years ago luckily, they weren't there long or Dean was almost sure to have experienced it. He had an inkling that it was for him and Sammy. In fact, he was absolutely positive it was for him and Sammy.

John raised an eyebrow and regarded his son for a moment then raised it so he was holding it in both hands so his son could have a better look at it.

Sam, who was clueless to the conversation, was lost in his own world moving rocks under his feet. "Sammy, come here." John ordered seeing his son mindlessly looking at the ground.

Sam hearing his dad's order shot his head up startled apparently unaware that he was even back. He quickly moved to obey and came around to the front of the car where his dad and Dean were standing. As Sam rounded the Impala he stopped dead in his tracks as he eyed the object in his dad's hands with fearful eyes.

When his boy did not move after a few seconds John pointed a finger directly in front of him by Dean. John always liked to have his boy's full attention when he spoke. If John wanted his boys directly in front of him then that meant he was about to give orders, discuss something really important or that they were in trouble. To John this allowed him to gain their full attention and respect. It was orderly, formal, efficient and effective. Sam knowing this very well obeyed and went to stand by his brother shooting Dean a worried look who was too focused on his dad at the moment to notice.

"Do you know what this is, boys?" John asked eyeing his son's waiting for a response.

Both of his boys remained silent for a moment. Sam squirmed uncomfortably shifting his feet looking down at the gravel. He knew exactly what it was and found it difficult to even look at the thing.

"Eyes up Samuel." John ordered. His son knew the rules. John did see his boy was uncomfortable about the situation. That was good then maybe he will never have to use it. Sam obeyed lifting his eyes back up.

"Tell me you've taken up Cricket." Dean stated sarcastically hopeful.

John looked down feeling his lips curl up slightly, but quickly suppressed it. "This is called a paddle, boys." John began casually like he was describing a household appliance. "And it is for your asses when I think it necessary." John continued as he twisted the board in his hands. It was a long light wood paddle about a foot long and two inches wide.

"Can't you ever surprise us with money or pie?" Dean said deflated.

"Dean." John said dropping his voice low giving his boy a warning look.

Sam who was still staring wide eyed at the object swallowed. "You're not going to use your hand anymore?" Sam asked feeling his chest tighten.

"I'm going use my hand, yes, but if that does not work. You'll be getting the paddle. That goes for both of you." John said giving both his boys a serious look.

"Do you really gotta use that?" Sam asked miserably.

John regarded his youngest. "Don't give me a reason to and you won't even have to worry about it." John said stating a simple solution in theory. "In fact, I hope I never have to use it." John warned.

"Why Dad? I just love you hitting my ass at 14 years old. It's one of my favorite hobbies with you." Dean sarcastically mused.

"Dean." John growled feeling like this paddle was going to be used far sooner than he expected.

"Sorry, sir." Dean mumbled humbly knowing he was pushing it.

After a moment John spoke again. "Now you know what will happen if you cross the line. This is what my ass got when I was your age. It is no walk in the park. So, don't give me cause to use it. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Both Sam and Dean recited.

"Good."

"Dad?" Sam exclaimed meekly.

"Yeah?"

"You're still going to use your hand, right? Like the paddle is for only really really really bad things, right?" Sam asked hoping his dad did not plan to use it all the time. Sam would certainly be sporting a sore butt the rest of his days if that was the case.

John sighed knowing he was going have to make things clearer for his youngest. "I'm still going to use my hand, Sammy. The paddle is more for serious misbehaviors, but don't think for one second that you can't upgrade to a paddling for any lip you give me."

"I don't give you lip." Sam mumbled looking down kicking the gravel with his toe.

John snorted in disbelief. "You can upgrade for lying too Samuel." John warned darkly. Sam felt his chest tighten at that. Lying is a huge no no. Sam bit his lower lip. He knew very well he gives his dad lip often.

"Where did you get that thing?" Dean asked curiously.

"Greg made it."

"Well that was nice of him." Dean said sarcastically.

John shot his son a look.

"You got spanked with it? Did it hurt?" Sam asked wanting to know more about this evil thing.

"Yes." John said simply.

"Like really bad?" Sam pushed.

"Enough to change my behavior to avoid the paddle at all cost. Something I hope you will do." John said feeling hopeful that he wouldn't have to use it so often. He hoped showing his boys the paddle would be a great deterrent just as much as getting their ass warmed by the thing. John remembered just knowing that that evil thing was in the kitchen waiting for him was a great behavior changer in itself.

"So it's bad." Sam stated having a miserable face on that would melted the hearts of most. Except for his dad of course.

"You'll survive. You don't want the paddle? Behave accordingly." John stated in a straightforward manner.

"This is dumb. You already spank us hard enough." Sam grumbled. If John was wondering when Sam was going to give him lip. There it was and it was no surprise.

"Apparently not. Not with all that lip you're given me, young man. I can easily put this to good use right now. You want to be the first to get your ass paddled? Keep going, little boy. See where it gets you." Sam knew exactly where it was going to get him. And that was bent over the impala ass up.

Sam put his head down. Sam didn't mean to give him lip, it just kind of happened.

John sighed. "You've gotta control that mouth, boy. I'm not joking. My patience is wearing thin on that. Don't push it."

"Yes, sir." Sam said politely not itching to find out how that paddle felt on his bottom.

The car ride was fairly quiet the first half an hour until Sam spoke up surprising John.

"Dad, can you tell us a about a time you were paddled?" Sam asked sincerely curious.

John was stunned. His son never asked him something like that before. Sure, he asked if he was spanked and of course John would say yes, but never got into a specific story.

Dean started to laugh. "Yeah dad, tell us about a time you got your ass beat."

John was reluctant at first. He didn't really know why, but then as he thought about it he figured it would be a good thing to hear about it. Perhaps if they heard about his ass beating they may not want to experience it themselves and behave accordingly, not to mention they would be able to hear about his younger life.

"I was your age Sammy…" John began.

Sam and Dean listened intriguingly without interrupting him except for the occasional "ooo," "gezz dad," "god." John was surprised at how fascinated and intrigued they were at the story. Once John finished Sam and Dean stared at him dumbfounded. They always saw John as the tough, brave invincible dad who rarely got corrected for anything. It was different to hear about him as a boy who wasn't much different than they were now.

"You gave grandpa lip." Sam mused almost reprimanding his dad in a teasing way.

John chuckled at that. "I did and paid for it every time. Like you, little boy."

Sam smiled not because of the fond memories he had of paying for it, but the fact that his dad did the same thing which gave him comfort to know he isn't so different from him after all.

"Did you ever get the paddle again?" Sam asked wondering if his dad learned his lesson.

John smiled. "What do you think?"

"You did." Sam said confidant in his answer.

"I was reckless, stupid and stubborn. Once I got the paddle on my bare ass." John recalled as he shook his head at the memory.

"What did you do?" Sam asked almost excitedly.

"That is a story for another time. One story about me getting my ass beat is enough for today." John said with an authoritative tone that suggested he was done with story time.

"Aww dad." Sam whined. Even Dean looked disappointed.

"As much as you enjoying hearing about it, you'll have to wait son. My ass hurts just thinking about it." John joked drily.

Sam giggled. "Yes, sir."

John shook his head both half amused and half surprised. "You think that's funny. Your old man getting his ass beat by your grandfather?" John asked in a faking offended tone.

"You deserved it." Sam smiled again. John was liking seeing his son smile so much even if it was at him getting his ass beat. He'd take it. It was sadly not as often as he liked when they were talking about things.

"Can't argue with you there." John nodded in agreeance.

"You ever do it again?" Sam asked.

"Not for a very long time, son. Not for a long time."

* * *

Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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